


i never knew loving could hurt this good

by bbeanseu



Category: VIXX
Genre: But mostly fluff, Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, It's VERY cute!!, M/M, theres also a lot of kisses, they hold hands a lot!!!!, very soft very wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbeanseu/pseuds/bbeanseu
Summary: It’s nice, and Hongbin likes the butterflies sometimes. He likes the way Wonshik laughs; he likes seeing Wonshik happy and glowing and throwing his head back because he laughs with his whole heart and it makes Hongbin’s own heart skip a beat.He likes the ridiculous lengths Wonshik will go just to make him smile, like balancing chopsticks on his nose or doing exaggerated Ryan Gosling impressions or just singing as badly as he can at the top of his lungs or waxing poetry for Hongbin to cringe at.;(Or: 5 times Wonshik tells Hongbin he loves him.And one time Hongbin tells Wonshik he does.)
Relationships: Kim Wonshik | Ravi/Lee Hongbin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 39





	i never knew loving could hurt this good

**Author's Note:**

> TW// Hongbin has a panic attack a couple of times. Theyre not very graphic but pls be careful
> 
> stay safe and hydrated!!

Hongbin has no idea why he decided to pull an all-nighter right before a schedule.

The make-up noonas scold him for it, frowning at the bags under his bloodshot eyes and the stark paleness of his skin that morning. He spends the entire time trying not to pass out on his feet, and by the time the schedule ends he’s ready to collapse right then and there.

It’s Wonshik who comes up to him— smug grin, eyebrows raised. “This is why you shouldn’t stay up all night gaming,” he says. Hongbin rolls his eyes, but when Wonshik wraps an arm around his shoulders and lets him lean into him as they walk, he’s too tired to really protest.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grouses instead, waving a hand vaguely in the air, “Says you.”

“Well,” says Wonshik, “I still get plenty of rest.”

They’re nearing the door now. Wonshik tilts his head— he’s looking at Hongbin, staring straight into his eyes, and there’s something swimming in Wonshik’s eyes that Hongbin doesn’t understand, but it makes his belly flip-flop like some helpless fish on land. His face warms, and his eyes dart away. He swallows.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters.

“Alright,” Wonshik says, shrugging. Hongbin can steal feel him staring. “Almost there, think you can walk?”

“I’ll be fine.”

When Wonshik pulls away, Hongbin suddenly wants to pulls him back in again. And it had felt so nice there, with Wonshik’s arms around him. It had been warm and soothing and grounding, a safety blanket wrapped around his shoulders keeping him snug and comfortable. He ignores the twinge of loss that ounces in his gut. He ignores the way Wonshik’s hands linger on his shoulders.

“You sure?”

Hongbin swallows,

_ No, _ he thinks.

_ I want you back here _ , he thinks.

“Yeah,” he lies, like a liar. Wonshik nods. Hongbin nods back. They keep walking.

The rest of the group are far ahead by now. Hongbin keeps his eyes glued on them, even as his and Wonshik’s hands occasionally brush as they walk. Hongbin stares forward. He ignores the growing urge to grab Wonshik’s hand and lace their fingers together.

It’s fine. This is fine.

It’s going to be fine.

* * *

Two nights later that he gets a call.

He pauses his game and puts his controller aside, answering the phone without glancing at the caller ID. “Hey?”

“Hey,” Wonshik says. Hongbin promptly squashes down the butterflies in his stomach at the sound of Wonshik’s voice, deep and raspy as it crackled from the other side of the phone.

“Hey,” Hongbin says again, trying to keep a straight face. Wonshik snorts over the phone before muffled laughter comes out, and it rings in Hongbin’s ears like music and echoes deep in his chest. “What’s up?” He wonders if Wonshik can hear him grinning.

He can definitely hear Wonshik’s smile. “Nothing much, really. Writing a song.”

“Aren’t you always?” He’s biting his lip like some smitten  _ schoolgirl _ , the hem of his sweater caught between the pads of his index finger and thumb. Hongbin shifts his weight to the other foot. Wonshik snorts again on the other side, and the sound of it makes Hongbin grin wider. “Why’d you call?”

“Jus’ wanted to talk. What are you up to?”

“Uh-huh.” Hongbin’s eyes dart around the room. “Well I was gaming. Kicking NPC ass, you know?”

“That’s my Binnie,” Wonshik says, Hongbin’s face reddens. He coughs into the phone.

My Binnie.

_ My Binnie _ .

The stupid butterflies are in his stomach again. “Sure,” he says. His voice doesn’t crack, thank God.

“Are you gaming tomorrow?” Wonshik asks abruptly.

Hongbin stills. “I mean, I don’t know. Got nothing else to do.”

“Great. So you’re free?” Wonshik’s smiling again. Hongbin sucks in a breath.

“Do you want me to be?”

* * *

They’re— dating, Hongbin thinks.

They haven’t really put a label on it yet. They haven’t really thought about it. But sometimes Wonshik texts him, out of the blue, asks him  _ you wanna go out tonight, Kongie? _ And Hongbin always says yes.

He’s not sure if it’s supposed to be an unspoken agreement or some kind of mutual understanding. He’s not sure if they even need to talk about it.

But it’s nice.

It’s nice, and Hongbin likes the butterflies sometimes. He likes the way Wonshik laughs; he likes seeing Wonshik happy and glowing and throwing his head back because he laughs with his whole heart and it makes Hongbin’s own heart skip a beat. He likes the ridiculous lengths Wonshik will go just to make him smile, like balancing chopsticks on his nose or doing exaggerated Ryan Gosling impressions or just singing as badly as he can at the top of his lungs or waxing poetry for Hongbin to cringe at.

And he likes how Wonshik reaches forward and puts a hand on his own, and even under the black mask obscuring most of his face, Hongbin can see the way Wonshik’s cheeks are bunching up as he smiles.

He’s sitting on the swings of a nearby park, silent as they listen to the crickets and the creaking of unoiled swings and the sound of each other’s breathing. Hongbin rubs his hands together, feeling the chilly evening air brush against his skin.

Wonshik steps aside a little to look at him. “You can have your hoodie back.”

“Nah,” Hongbin says, as Wonshik pulls his swing back, “It’s fine. I gave it to you.”

Wonshik frowns. “You’re cold.”

His hair’s catching the glow of the moonlight perfectly. Wonshik’s cheeks are flushed from the cold. The sight of him’s enough to steal the breath from Hongbin’s lungs. He shakes his head. “Not really,” he says, even if we can see the gooseflesh on his skin.

He really isn’t that cold, because Wonshik’s hands are on his shoulders every time Hongbin swings back, and he can feel Wonshik’s heat every time the rapper has to push him forward.

They’re dating, Hongbin thinks. They have been for a while. They’re staying up in parks just to talk. They’re offering each other hoodies and make each other laugh and go out in public sometimes, hiding in the plain view of the crowds. They eat dinner together when they can, and they make out, and hold hands, and Hongbin likes holding hands with Wonshik, because Wonshik’s hands are so big and warm and—

“We can head back,” Wonshik says.

“Should we?” Hongbin asks. He doesn’t really want to.

“It’s getting late,” Wonshik says, like it isn’t one in the morning. “Walk you back to the dorm?”

Wonshik grabs his hand when they start walking. Hongbin can feel him squeezing and rubbing soothing circles on his skin. He smiles to himself and squeezes back.

When they get to the dorm, Wonshik tugs his mask down. Hongbin’s eyes widen. He whips his head around, scanning frantically, “Wonshik—”

Wonshik squeezes his hand, and Hongbin stops,

“Calm down, okay?” Wonshik says softly, “Nobody’s around.”

“Okay,” Hongbin says. “Okay. I’ll see you?”

“Yeah.” Wonshik steps closer, pressing his lips against the side of Hongbin’s forehead. “I love you.”

Oh, Hongbin thinks, his blood going cold. His heart stops.

But Wonshik’s pulling back. Wonshik’s bidding him good night. Hongbin can feel himself saying something in response. He stays still, even as he watches Wonshik’s back disappear into a corner.

He goes inside, and blood’s pounding in his ears. He’s walking on autopilot. His heart is jackhammering and there’s sweat on his palms and the silence is deafening but at the same time it’s so, so  _ loud _ .

And one moment his eyes are blurring over as he’s hyperventilating in the elevator but when he blinks and his vision clears he’s already in the dorm’s restroom, keeling over the toilet bowl and heaving up his and Wonshik’s dinner. His knuckles are pale from gripping the toilet seat too hard. His throat is raw and his eyes are stinging.

Hongbin staggers to his feet and flushes the toilet.

* * *

His phone’s ringing.

Hongbin unconsciously smiles when he hears it. He can vaguely hear Sangyuk yell out  _ “Whipped!” _ but he only rolls his eyes in response and answers the call, “Morning, Wonshikkie.”

Wonshik yawns. It comes out staticky, muffled from the call, “Morning, babe.”

Hongbin cringes, shaking his head vehemently even if Wonshik can’t see him. “That’s gross, you’re gross, shut the fuck up,” he says. But he’s grinning and laughing into the phone, face screwed into an amalgamation of both amusement and disgust. From the corner of his eye, he catches Sanghyuk miming throwing, to which he responds by mouthing  _ fuck you _ .

Wonshik only laughs in response. He still sounds tired, voice rough from sleep, and he’s talking about something that Hongbin zones out of because he’d much rather just focus on his voice. It’s making him feel some kind of way.

“Babe?”

“Fuck off,” Hongbin automatically says in response, grimacing. Wonshik laughs again. He keeps laughing. Not that Hongbin’s complaining. He really, really likes Wonshik’s laugh.

Oh God, oh fuck, he’s turning into Wonshik.

“Sorry,” Wonshik says, not sounding very sorry at all. Hongbin huffs, walking back to his room, so he doesn’t have to tolerate Sanghyuk’s occasional teasing side comments. “I just wanted to know if you were still there.”

His voice has turned soft. Hongbin can, honest to God, feel his heart flutter.

“I obviously wasn’t,”

“How mean. I’m breaking up with you.”

Hongbin pauses. Wonshik makes a sound of confusion. “Um,” Hongbin says.

“Binnie?”

“That means,” Hongbin says, brain blanking out, “That we’re together-together? Like official?” In a whisper he asks, “Boyfriends..?”

The word feels strange on his tongue. It feels new; awkward.

He can’t wrap his head around it. Boyfriends. Him and Wonshik. Wonshik and him. Boyfriends. Actually boyfriends. He closes the door behind him, one hand over his heart. He breathes in slowly.

“Yeah?” There’s rustling on the other side. “You mean? Were we on different pages the entire time? What about—”

“No!” Hongbin cuts in, laughing. His face hurts from how wide his smile is. He grips his stomach, leaning against the wall. “No, I’m just. Relieved. I wasn’t sure. You never made it clear, you idiot.”

Boyfriends. The word feels strange. It makes him feel happy. It fills him with relief. It fills him with dread and fear and doubt.

“Thought I made it pretty clear last night?” Wonshik says.

Hongbin ignores the implications of those words. “You’re a dummy.”

“I’m your dummy,” Wonshik says. “Dumbass. Love you.”

Hongbin laughs, his stomach knotting. He hopes it doesn’t sound as nervous as he feels. “Chill,” he says, trying not to pay attention to the sickening sensation in his gut once again. He’s got to breathe. “I need to go. See you?”

“Yeah,” Wonshik says. “See you.”

The call ends,

Hongbin massages the space between his eyebrows and swallows down the rising bile in his throat.

* * *

_ I love you _ , Wonshik had said.  _ I love you _ . He keeps saying it. How could he say that? How could he say that and not doubt it? How could he say that and  _ mean _ it?

Jaehwan’s knocking on the bathroom door. He’s pouting as he asks Hongbin to hurry up in the restroom, he has a routine he needs to stick by, Binnie you’ve been there for  _ hours _ . Realistically, Hongbin knows that he can’t have been in here for more than thirty minutes, but every second feels like an eternity and he wouldn’t be surprised if he indeed has been in here for hours.

“Calm down, hyung!” he calls out. He splashes water on his face and desperately tries to mat his hair down with water. With a defeated sigh he turns around and opens the bathroom door.

“All yours,” he says, stepping aside, and he ignores the concern swimming in Jaehwan’s big brown eyes. He ignores Jaehwan’s soft voice asking if he’s okay. He keeps his head down, and when he feels fingers wrapping around his wrist he freezes.

Jaehwan’s frown is still firmly in place, “What’s wrong?”

He sounds like he’s about to cry.

Fuck.

He can feel the way his heart tears itself to pieces. He can’t see Jaehwan cry. He won’t let Jaehwan cry. Hongbin inhales, and when he exhales it’s in a shuddery breath. “It’s nothing, hyung.”

Jaehwan closes the bathroom door. He sits on the carpet, patting the empty spot next to him. Hongbin hesitates before sitting down.

“How do you know someone loves you?”

Jaehwan purses his lips.

Hongbin stares at his hands. “How do you know they mean it? What is it even, to love?”

“Hongbinnie,” Jaehwan sighs, and Hongbin winces as he realizes that Jaehwan is probably the least ideal person for him to talk to about this. He looks to the side. There’s a spot on the wallpaper. He can feel Jaehwan’s hand on his arm, squeezing lightly.

Hongbin pulls his legs to his chest and hugs his knees. 

“I’m so scared, hyung.”

His voice is small, so small. He hates it.

“I know,” Jaehwan says. “I know, Binnie.” And Jaehwan smiles at him. How could Jaehwan  _ smile _ at him, after everything, after—?

Jaehwan leans back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “I know it’s terrifying, Binnie, but,” he sighs. “Don’t run away, okay? Don’t run away again.”

Hongbin ducks his head.

“Okay, Binnie?” Jaehwan says softly. “For Wonshik?”

Hongbin nods.

It’s a pathetic attempt at one, but it’s a nod nonetheless.

* * *

Beds are nice.

Beds with Wonshik are even nicer.

Wonshik’s arm is draped across his waist, and his lips are pressed on the back of Hongbin’s head. He’s probably got hair in his mouth, gross. He listens to the sound of Wonshik breathing, and he thinks:  _ this is perfect _ . He thinks:  _ I never want this to end _ .

Sunlight is streaming through the blinds, blanketing them both in its glow. There are slivers of rainbows on their bare skin. Hongbin rolls over, every part of him protesting for disturbing the comfortable stillness, but the shift in position is worth it just to see the peaceful expression on Wonshik’s face as he sleeps.

Wonshik murmurs something against Hongbin’s bangs, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Hongbin stares a little longer, gaze tracing and memorizing every little detail on Wonshik’s skin. He’s contemplating pressing a kiss to Wonshik’s neck when the latter’s eyes flutter open.

Hongbin’s gaze darts up to meet Wonshik’s eyes.

“Hi,” Wonshik says, kissing Hongbin’s forehead. He’s grinning like an idiot.

“Hi,” Hongbin says, smiling back.

And this is fine, just the two of them in the sanctuary of a bedroom, basking in each other’s presence and the soft warmth of the early morning. Hongbin presses closer to him, “Did I wake you?”

“Not really.” At Hongbin’s raised eyebrows, Wonshik grimaces. “Okay. A little. It’s fucking… early.”

‘It’s six.”

Wonshik rolls over so that he’s on his stomach, face smushed against the pillow, “You wake up so early,” he groans.

Hongbin snickers, yawning as he sits up. “Yeah, I know.”

“I hate you,” Wonshik says into his pillow.

“You don’t,” Hongbin says, ignoring the flicker of doubt in his ribcage. He looks down at Wonshik, once again mapping the canvas of his body. One hand comes up to run through Wonshik’s hair. Maybe today he can pretend that everything is fine. Maybe he can pretend he’s alright.

Wonshik hums into his pillow, words slurred and incoherent, and Hongbin catches himself smiling like a smitten fool. He shakes his head, pulling back, standing up so he can pick up his clothes flung over a nearby chair.

Wonshik catches him by the wrist. He’s lying on his side again, half-lidded eyes staring up at Hongbin and soft lips curling into a pout. “Come back to bed, Bin.”

“Can’t,” Hongbin says, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Hongbin,” Wonshik sighs, “You can’t cook. For shit.”

Hongbin stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles. He shrugs, “I’ll figure something out.”

Wonshik grumbles and rolls over once again.

Hongbin’s staring at the directions printed on the back of the pancake mix. He looks between it and the bowl of batter, then the box, then the batter again.

“Fuck it,” he says, pouring the batter into the preheated pan.

At least, he thinks it’s preheated. The last time he tried to ‘preheat’ a pan he ended up setting the oil on fire, so he’s doing it differently this time. But he’s somewhat proud of his coffee skills, so there’s a perfectly good pot of coffee sitting in the maker. If his pancakes end up like shit, at least he has the coffee going for him.

“God,” he hears Wonshik say. “That smells amazing.”

“Thought you were going back to bed,” Hongbin says, glancing over his shoulder before going back to the pancakes. Should he flip them? He has no idea when he should flip them. He pokes one with the tip of a spatula. 

Great, now there’s a hole in the pancakes.

“Hmm,” Wonshik hums noncomitally, wrapping his arms around Hongbin’s waist from behind. He kisses just underneath Hongbin’s jaw. “The coffee smells good, too.”

Hongbin’s face twists. “Sap,” he says, rolling his eyes, “I need to cook.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Wonshik says, kissing another spot on Hongbin’s neck. “I like your moles. Very kissable.”

“I like your face. Very hittable,”

Wonshik gasps and backs up, hand over his heart. Hongbin rolls his eyes, lips quirking upwards. “You’re a dork.”

It’s disgustingly domestic. Since when has Hongbin been so disgustingly domestic? He goes back to his pancakes and successfully flips it over this time. Great! Does he get a medal?

He can hear Wonshik move to sit at the breakfast bar. He can feel Wonshik’s eyes on him.

Wonshik says, “I need to record your voice.”

Hongbin turns around after successfully transferring one pancake onto a waiting plate. “Okay but why?”

Wonshik already has his phone out. It’s sitting on top of the table, no doubt already recording. Hongbin flips another pancake— it’s a little burnt. Okay. He can eat that one.

“Changing my ringtone.”

Hongbin sputters, “What?”

Wonshik grins cheekily in response. “Please, babe?”

“Gross,” Hongbin shudders, “Don’t call me babe,”

“Binnie? Binnie baby? My soulmate? Apple of my eye?”

Hongbin buries his face in his hands and lets out a sound that’s stuck between a dying-animal screech and a laugh. “Stop doing that and I’ll do it!” He finishes the second pancake, putting it on another plate, and decides that he can’t be bothered to cook any more. “You really want my voice to be your ringtone, huh?”

He has no idea why he’s grin is so wide,

Wonshik shrugs exaggeratedly. Hongbin puts the plates on the table and pours them their coffee. “You’re such a sap,” he says, but he can’t deny the laughter lacing his voice,

“Oh,” Wonshik says, “Like you didn’t trim our part in To Us and set that as yours.”

Hongbin’s face goes hot. “Shut up.”

Wonshik laughs. Wonshik laughs with his entire soul, and whenever Hongbin sees it his heart skips a beat and,  _ oh _ , he thinks. Oh.

Hongbin doesn’t say it, but the realization hits him like a freezing bucket of ice water.

“You’re the cutest,” Wonshik says, gazing at Hongbin with That Smile on his face; That Look in his eyes. “I love you.”

He says it in the way he always does. He say it so naturally, like the words are always on his tongue like they belong there.

He doesn’t say. “I love you, too.”

Instead he rolls his eyes. Calls him a sap once again. Drinks his coffee,

But he  _ does _ . He loves Wonshik. He loves the butterflies every single time. He loves the way Wonshik laughs; he loves seeing Wonshik happy and glowing and throwing his head back because he laughs with his whole heart and it makes Hongbin’s own heart skip a beat. He loves the ridiculous lengths Wonshik will go just to make him smile, like balancing chopsticks on his nose or doing exaggerated Ryan Gosling impressions or just singing as badly as he can at the top of his lungs or waxing poetry for Hongbin to cringe at.

He loves it when they kiss. He loves it when they hold hands. He loves having to go to ridiculous, embarrassing lengths just to make Wonshik smile. He loves how Wonshik rolls his eyes when Hongbin tells the dumbest jokes. He loves…

He loves Wonshik.

The thought of it is terrifying.

* * *

He doesn’t know why he just won’t say it.

Every time he sees Wonshik he can feel the three words in the back of his throat, but every time he opens his mouth to say them nothing comes out.

He doesn’t know why he’s so  _ scared _ .

Maybe it’s because saying it out loud would make it feel more real.

Maybe it’s because he’s scared he might regret it, scared he might get trapped, scared Wonshik would get trapped.

Maybe he just doesn’t want it to feel so—

Real.

* * *

“I love you.”

Hongbin almost responds.

The thing is he doesn’t.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Wonshik speaks before Hongbin can really say anything, anyway, his smile tired and his eyes resigned.

“I know,” Wonshik says, and the way his smile is strained almost hurts as much as the terror in Hongbin’s chest, choking him from the inside-out. “You’re not ready yet. It’s fine. I can wait.”

Wonshik’s voice breaks in the middle.

Hongbin chokes down a sob.

* * *

_ “I love you!” _ Wonshik’s shoulders are drawn and shaky and his lips are bitten raw. “Can’t you say it back? Just once? For me?”

Hongbin lets out a shaky breath, “Wonshik, you know I do.”

“No.” Wonshik snaps, turning around. “No, Hongbin, I don’t fucking know. Because you never even  _ say _ it!”

“But I show you!” Hongbin’s eyes are stinging. His throat hurts. His hands and voice are trembling and his knees are giving out. “I try my best—”

“And it’s not enough!”

Time stops.

Hongbin steps back like he’d been struck. Wonshik’s frozen in place, hands over his mouth, his bloodshot eyes wide with horror. But then he squares his shoulders and standing up straight, pushing his quivering lips together, until he goes slack and leans sideways against the wall, tilting his head down.

“Is it too much to ask, Hongbin?” he whispers. “Is it… can’t you just..?”

“You told me,” Hongbin mumbles, wincing at his own words. He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the floor. “You told me you’d wait.”

“I did. All I’ve done is wait, Hongbin.”

Hongbin focuses on his breathing. He keeps staring at his shoes.

“I’m tired of waiting,” Wonshik sobs, slamming the side his fist against the wall, “I’m tired of holding on when sometimes I start to doubt if it’s even worth it at all.”

Hongbin doesn’t look up. He doesn’t say anything.

The words are bubbling up in his throat like vomit. All the  _ sorries _ and  _ I love you’s _ and  _ I’m fucked up you don't deserve someone like me  _ and  _ please don’t leave me. _

“And  _ I love you _ , God,  _ I love you _ , but—”

Hongbin hears him sigh. He hears his footsteps. He hears the door creak open.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Wonshik says, and it hurt, it hurts, it hurts like his chest’s being sawed open and it hurts like his heart’s being torn out and ripped to shreds. It hurts like a million stones in his lungs and a boiling vat of acid in the pit of his stomach.

And yet,

And yet, Hongbin ignores the way Wonshik lingers by the door.

He hears the door close. He hears the lock click. And it stings, it aches, it burns.

And he can’t even be angry at Wonshik. Not when he’s got no-one to blame but himself.

Hongbin chokes on his breath and squeezes his eyes shut and thinks  _ don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry just breathebreathebreathe this is your fault _ and his hands are shaking as they struggle to grip at something— anything—

And he can’t cry he has no reason to this is his fault and maybe if he hadn’t been such a fucking coward—

And in the deafening silence of his room, Hongbin sinks to his knees and cries.

+1

Wonshik hasn’t changed Hongbin’s custom ringtone.

He doesn’t know why.

He also doesn’t know why he picks up the phone when he hears it, hears Hongbin’s voice laughing and saying  _ “You really want my voice to be my ringtone, don’t you,”  _ even when the sound of it makes the fresh wounds in his heart bleed anew,

“Kong?” he asks.

Silence.

Wonshik considers hanging up, but he can’t because this is Hongbin. Because exes or not, messy break-up or not, he has always been and always will be hopelessly weak for Lee Hongbin.

He tries again. “Kong?”

“Wonshikkie?”

Hongbin’s voice is scratchy. Raw. Has he been crying? Hongbin never cries. The idea of it makes something ugly settle in Wonshik’s gut.

(A small, dark, resentful part of him feels satisfied. Wonshik quickly locks that part of him away.)

“Are you okay?”

Wonshik hates how worried he is,

He wishes he weren’t so worried.

He wishes he didn’t care so much.

There’s another long pause, before Hongbin responds.

“Can you pick me up?”

Wonshik barely thinks.

He’s standing before Hongbin can finish his sentence. He’s asking where he is, already walking down the hall to the elevator, grinding his teeth in frustration as he urged his feet to go faster.

“Park,” Hongbin mutters. “The park where—”

“Yeah, got it,” Wonshik interrupts. “Wait there. Don’t move.”

He catches himself opening his mouth, the words  _ I love you _ readily sitting on the tip of his tongue waiting to be spoken.

“Bye,” he says.

Over the phone, he catches Hongbin hiccup before the line goes dead.

Hongbin is drunk.

“You look terrible,” Wonshik says, because Hongbin’s eyes are red-rimmed, and there are tear stains on his cheeks, and his hair and shirt are mussed. “What happened to you?”

It’s a dumb question. Hongbin winces. Wonshik tries not to feel guilty, not when he’d been just as hurt as Hongbin had been too.

Not when breaking up with him had been a perfectly valid decision.

Here’s what happens: Wonshik picks Hongbin up. He hails a cab, and neither of them talk.

Here’s what happens: Wonshik decides to go to his flat, instead of bringing Hongbin to the dorm. He isn’t sure the others are going to appreciate an emotionally stable Hongbin with a hangover.

Here’s what happens: Wonshik is weak.

He gives Hongbin the bed, tells him it’s fine, he doesn’t sleep much anyway, the couch is perfectly fine and Hongbin needs the bed more. He’s looking at Hongbin curled up in the middle of his bed and he misses what they had and mourns what could have been. He’s looking at Hongbin’s fragile frame and he should just leave so that it wouldn’t hurt as much anymore but he can’t.

And in the silence, Wonshik hears Hongbin whisper, “I love you.”

Wonshik had thought, before, what it would feel like to hear those words from Hongbin for the very first time.

He’d expected fireworks. Relief. Joy.

But instead there’s an emotion he can’t find the words to, churning in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t expected it to feel as awful as it does.

“You’re drunk,” he says. There’s a lump in his throat.

But there’s nothing but honesty glossing over Hongbin’s doe eyes, wide and vulnerable. And there’s nothing but fear in the shaky notes of his voice.

And maybe that's what makes it worse.

“I know,” Hongbin says quietly. “I love you anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments would be cool aaa
> 
> hope you enjoyed!! <3


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